Post It Notes
by iheartCSI4326
Summary: [SM] Stella decides everything is just too distant for her liking.
1. Stella

Disclaimer - Anthony Zuiker in all his genius owns everything.

Paring - Eventual Stella/Mac. Hints of D/L.

Set - Month after Snow Day.

AN - First stand alone Stella/Mac fic! I've been wanting to write one of these for a while, since I always tend to stick with D/L. Also the first time I've written this pairing by myself, and writing them as the centered characters. All in all, this is unfamiliar ground. So bare with me.

Oh and this fic only exists because Brittney dared me to write it. Damn her. :p

Read and Review (:

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**Post-it Notes**

There was no denying that the Break Room coffee was indeed, horrible but it wasn't bothering Stella as much as it did somedays. She sat on one of the stools, tracing swirls in the sugar she had torn open and spilt onto the table. Even though she was doing it in an absent minded action as her mind was somewhere else. All the sounds around her, lab machines, various footsteps, occasional telephone ringing, all seemed to fade as she sat there.

Then as if someone had pressed play, Sheldon, Lindsay and Danny came in absorbed in conversation, that Stella couldn't quite figure out its subject, not that she was back to the real world as she stared through the glass walls in the direction of Mac's office, which was currently unoccupied by the person she was hoping to see. At first it was just little things, she'd be on the phone, Mac would stop by, she'd say the phone call was important, and he'd say he'd see her later. Over the last month it turned into, lately she hardly saw Mac at all. She'd stop by his office to hand him a case report, or something of that nature. But somehow their shifts were opposite, so she'd just have to leave it on his desk.

Stella watched Lindsay lightly shove Danny for stealing her fruit bar. A small smile peaked at the corner of her mouth, since after the day of the incident day with the drug attempted heist at the lab, everyone saw the change from the two bickering 'friends' - to the care-free couple they were now, not that they didn't have their bickering sessions here and there. Stella remembered talking to Mac about it on the phone as he was packing at his apartment for his sudden trip to London, with Peyton.

"_... I see trouble._"

"_Mac, lighten up. Look how happy they are._"

"_Hmm._"

"_You really don't have a romantic bone in your body, do you,_" _she wryly commented._

"_As long as_—"

"_... They keep it out of the lab._" _Stella finished systematically in a stern voice. _

_A faint breathing then a chuckle echoed through the phone. Then his voice got a gossip like tone to it. But slightly judgmental._ "_He came in for Lindsay_'_s shift. Shirt half untucked_."

"Mac_ Taylor. You are worse than a Greek woman at a wedding._"

_After some shuffling filtered through the phone Stella paused and her brow wrinkled._ "_What are you doing_."

"_I haven_'_t packed anything, ever, even after college I threw everything away and bought new things to save myself the trouble._"

_Stella let out a laugh at his comfortable comment about his habits, it was the side of Mac, the relaxed and more open him that she had the privilege to see, it took years of friendship building on both their parts for it to get there. But still, Stella cherished it._ _Her voice quietened as she started to, automatically offer to help._ _"I could come over, help you organize it properly–" _

_But her voice faded on the words when she winced as she reminded herself, it was different now, it wasn_'_t just her and him, it was her. And Mac and Peyton._ _After telling him to travel safe she rushed toward hanging up, a sudden feeling of intrusion coming over her, as if there was now a line between them now. Work, sure they could be partners. But as people, this line just kept getting in the way._

And then as she still sat twirling patterns into the sugar she realized she hadn't worked a case with Mac in two months now, sure it wasn't a impossible thing to happen; but since she was as high up and qualified as Mac now, they tended to both go with one of the others, since it evened things out.

Maybe it only got to her because he was her best friend, she had leaned on him when it was only him to lean on. During the HIV ordeal, she had, under the surface, been scared to the core. Mac was the only thing that was there when she felt her self control slipping. And now, it was changing. There were rumors of Mac and Peyton getting married circulating around the lab staff. But as with most rumors, they died down, and changed to the next exciting subject, like the morgue was haunted.

Back in the Break Room, her thoughts faded out of that phone call.

"Stell... Stella."

Blinking, Stella lifted up her head to look at the three who were now focused on her, Danny happily eating Lindsay's fruit bar, Lindsay's curious gaze mixed with underlining concern, Sheldon's questioning tone.

_How long have I been sitting here_. Shaking her head slightly, stray curls swayed in her face. "Sorry. Not really here today, my mind is miles away," she came to reply as she cleared up the sugar and the coffee mug off the table.

"Sure is, I think I said your name twenty times. I even slipped in Stella Bella, that didn't even grasp your attention." Sheldon replied as he seated himself on one of the stools.

"Just one of those days, I guess," she said, before sending a fleeting glance and faint smile at the three faces looking at her as she vanished out of the doorway.

Danny, Lindsay and Sheldon shared a look.

Fifteen minutes later, with files piled in her arms Stella maneuvered down the long halls, passing only a few people, as it was growing later into the afternoon, and it was a quiet case load that week. Once she arrived outside Mac's office door she wasn't too surprised to find it empty, so with her back she opened the door and headed in, placing the files in the middle of his desk.

With a tired breath she walked around his desk and dropped into his chair. Running her fingers over the range of things that sat on his desk. Her eyes falling onto a yellow post-it note pad. Pouting her lips in thought she reached for a pen and wrote a quick message, then stuck it on the front of the photo frame of Mac and her at the Chief of Police's charity event last christmas. Sliding out of the chair she made her way out, and off to get done what work she had yet to do that day.

_You've become invisible, Taylor._

_Do I really have to dust you with fluorescent print powder?_

_**TBC**_


	2. Mac

Disclaimer - first chapter.

AN - this chapter only has some Peyton and Mac in it, because though I may very much dislike her, I'm not about to make her suffer, at least... not yet. _LOL_.

Only read over it once, so sorry for anything that didn't get fixed.

Read and Review.

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**Chapter Two**

_Traffic_... is all about the idea, fantasy, larger than life place that New York has become, the yellow taxi cab, the bike messenger (along with the angry New Yorker cursing at him for nearly running him over) – the tour busses, filled to the brim with excited and awed foreigners so overwhelmed by being in the 'Big Apple', their faces as shiny as a fully lit december christmas tree. Along with commuters, families, everyone trying to get from one place to the next the easiest way possible, and for that person on their way to the first day in a new job — as fast as possible.

But of all the years Mac had lived in New York, today he wasn't exactly beaming with joy of such a cultured and thriving city he calls his home.

"Get out of the way asshole!"

"You first you–"

Turning up his car radio he tried to let the mix of car horns, engines and lots of swearing drown out. If this headache he had since the morning got any worse he was likely to burst a vain. And he knew not only would that give him no choice but to go home and take unnecessary time off, but Stella would surely give him one hell of an earful about not taking care of himself. On that thought Mac un-tensed slightly, she always seemed to have that affect on him. Case got to much, even for him, she'd bring his anger or frustration to a still. Not to mention she pulled him out of the hole he threw himself into after 911.

He had seen that they had been drifting apart more each week, he told himself. _I'll call her tonight._ Then, _I'll do it tomorrow._ He put it down to work, even though there was way more between them than just work, they weren't just partners as cops or as scientists, she _was_ his partner, in every sense of the word, which at times had scared him, that he could have such an open connection with someone.

Maybe because of hat, it made him take a chance on a relationship with Peyton.. he might have done it anyway, but he had doubts in the back of his mind that he pushed away on a daily basis. He did care about Peyton, in some sense he saw her as that second change he had been too unstable to take when he had felt something for Jane awhile back. Maybe he did have this underlying attraction to English women, Claire had English and Irish roots on her father's side, they had gone to Ireland for their first anniversary. So many things, memories of her, he still was scared from time to time that if he started creating new memories, the some that meant so much, would wither away and be forgotten. Not that he wasn't trying with Peyton, he did from the moment he woke up till the time he got himself to close his eyes again.

Finally he got himself to the doors of the Lab building, into the elevator, taking a rare brief second to let out a deep breath. But before he got the change to bask in the calm silence the doors opened no long before they had closed. A somewhat frizzy brunette with curls he could probably recognize from another state, revealed as the mental doors slid open. Tilting his head up from his gaze at the floor, Mac's gaze fell onto his partner's face. Suddenly feeling highly slow motion he blinked as she stepped into the elevator.

A smile as always, Stella flashed a somewhat lower wattage one over at him before going back to aimlessly staring at the floor level indicators. By the time the doors opened, people got in on various floors and the elevator hit 35th, Stella stepped off and before he had a chance to call after her she was gone. _Maybe later_.

So in his well known work-mode he stepped off, but before he went to his office, he headed to the Break Room.

"Mac..."

Caught off guard Mac jumped vaguely before composing himself, "Peyton."

Peyton in a slight over vision in peach walked up to him beaming of a cheery mood, one Mac was not exactly sharing. As she handed him a coffee and kissed his cheek, Mac tried not to cut her off from himself, again, trying, not one-hundred percent successful.

"You look exhausted Mac. You're not coming down with a cold are you?" Peyton queried, her brow wrinkling.

"I'm fine." Short maybe, but he was tired, more emotionally, than physical.

"Listen, how about a home cooked meal, some wine, and we spend the rest of the night with a movie."

Her hopeful tone and pleading look obvious to him as it was a regular routine between them, not that it wasn't bad, he enjoyed her company, but on some level, he still found the whole situation weird. Maybe it would get easier. That was his hope.

"... I don't know. I might get off sometime in the morning, I wouldn't want you to be left waiting." A small genuine smile on his face.

Peyton nodded, "Well, how about.." She drew out, as she busied herself fixing his tie. "You call me if you do finish at a 'normal' time, okay." And with another kiss on his cheek she walked her way out, leaving him to think it over.

Sipping at his coffee he stepped into the hallway, seeing Stella just walking down the hall, and he found himself again wanting to call her name, but his mouth closed and he turned on his heel, in the opposite direction. And into his office.

His investigator trained eyes caught sight of a yellow piece paper on his desk, he leant over, pausing with it in his hand to admire the photo, then seeing a familiar handwriting he slowly sat onto his chair.

He would be lying if he said that at that moment he didn't feel guilty, but once he read over the last words he let himself smile.

Yes she had reached out to him... but he wasn't going to let her do everything, their friendship was his to hold together too, so, shrugging off his suit jacket he tossed it over to the couch on the other side of the room. Then placing the note in his draw he peeled off one from the same post-it pad as Stella had.

With the pen in his hand he wrote without thinking, then getting to his feet he headed into the hall, feeling something like a child sneaking around in the middle of the night to get cookies, hoping not to get caught. Opening Stella's office door, he checked the hall for anyone, preferably Stella. Walking in he placed the note on the top of her computer screen, he smoothed it down before quietly going back out - a faint light of happiness in his mostly distant and sometimes cold brown eyes.

_I miss you too, Stella._

_**TBC**_


	3. Overlap

Disclaimer - you know how it goes.

AN - thought we could do with a breather from the drama between them (evil giggle) Enjoy. ;p

More this time, for your kind reviews. Thank you so much!

Oh and a little D/L also.

Again mistakes not meant to be there are my fault.

Read and Review.

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**Chapter Three**

_Is it wrong that I feel like I'm drowning._

Stella rhythmically waved a post-it in her hand, as she pondered the question, gazing into oblivion through glass and out across the New York skyline — from the comfort of Mac's office chair.

The paper made crinkling sounds as it flapped in her hand, sending small curls blowing gently as a result. _Drowning_, the question occupying her mind got stuck there once she she stepped foot in Mac's office twenty minutes ago, earlier she had got to work an hour and a half early, and not because she expected Mac to respond to her note so quick, this time it was a practical reason, she had worked a double shift a couple of days ago, ended up taking an earlier shift after her day off, then somehow got stuck on the early shift again. _Nightshift must be really slacking._

So, somewhere between clocking in, noticing what few living people were around at that certain time, finding coffee (which was an mission all in itself) she wandered into her office, in search of– something, she completely forgot what it was she came in for in the first place when the post-it note on her computer wiped out everything out of her mind.

This was a Lab, so she knew; one, no one left post-its, because nearly everything needed to be told to someone ASAP. And, two, honestly no one could be bothered to write it down when you have Cell Phones and Pages. And unless it was Mac sticking one on his fridge so he remembered to throw out the milk and buy fresh milk, she knew that it was him, based on her overly thought deductions. Reluctant to pick it up she stared at it like it was a piece of evidence, when she realized she was just standing there like an idiot, she picked it up and read it.

Somehow ending up in Mac's office, sitting in Mac's chair, slowly waving the post-it in her hand as she sat in her trance of thoughts. Now, drowning is not exactly something Stella was feeling so much, since the obvious fact that there was a great lack of water around her, and its not like she was bleeding internally. Though Stella thought it was something like that, which is where the metaphor came to mind.

Drowning, _in_ _Mac. _Drowning, _in all this unbelievably stupid unnecessary crap,... no. _Drowning, _in hope._ _Maybe._ Drowning, _in pity... I don't think so._

But she did feel sorry for herself lately. Work-A-Holic, successful woman detective, in her prime, nearly forty something Greek orphan, with no family, no life, no friends out of the Lab, and a best friend who's off doing god knows what with some English tramp.

_It's not that I'm jealous. I'm just pissed off._

You could say she was drowning in some form of self-pity. Not that she minded, it was just everyone else that was going to have to watch out, Stella was one pissed off and frustrated Greek woman today (with a tendency to drift off.) Tempted to throw something or run her finger over the handwriting on the note again, Stella spun the chair around when she caught glimpse of the clock, an hour. One whole hour she had been sitting there like that. With a sigh she slid the note into her jacket pocket as she heard footsteps near the doorway. Not caring, she leant her head back onto the chair.

"Taking over Mac's office now?" Danny smirked in amusement as he made his way in casually, before continuing. Not bothering to wait for response. "So, do I call you _Boss_? Or do you prefer _I'm seriously pissed off Bonasera so don't fuck with me_," he queried dropping into one of the two chairs in front of the desk.

A throaty laugh came from Stella. Was she that obviously pissed off. Sitting forward, Stella lifted her head up and gave Danny a look over. "You look like shit," Stella raised an eyebrow at his ragged appearance.

Danny stifled his sudden burst of laughter and copied her eyebrow raise at her out of character disregard for not mincing words. "Usually only Montana scares me, when she starts talking more than one sentence about another guy, but now, you acting like this has me wanting to run to the hills with my tail between my legs."

Stella made a mock evil laugh, "Run. Run away." They paused to share a laugh.

"Who got on the wrong side of Bonasera so early on in the day," Danny asked, then tilted his head, "though you are in Mac's office, it could be any number of people on Mac's speed-dial."

Feeling her blood rush cold and hot all in one motion she sighed, barely audible but enough for Danny to take a wild guess, apparently on Stella and Lindsay's shopping days out they did actually talk about more than just cases.

"Coffee. You need coffee." Danny threw a crooked smile at her, causing her to, as she passed by him; slap the back of his head.

"I get it, my Messer charm disgusts you," he grumbled following her out into the hall.

"Danny..."

"Yea'?"

"Don't make me slap you."

"Mmmhmm."

A smirk on her face as she shook her head at him, Danny quietly chuckling as they stepped into the Break Room.

"DANIEL CARMINE MESSER."

Stella paused midst her coffee pouring to turn around and watch the scene before her. Danny who was still at the doorway to the Break Room, stood still as his face managed to pale, drop to the floor and wince in a chain reaction to his name being called by one fuming Lindsay Monroe. (_Maybe all the women in this lab are in a rotten mood today) _

Danny made a mental note not the call his Ma' till tomorrow.

Stella stirred coffee as she overlooked Lindsay dragging Danny by his arm down the hall, Danny turned his head and sent a helpless look to Stella who gave a little wave in response – followed by a chuckle. Alone again with some thoughts bordering on dangerous (and not _that_ kinda of dangerous.) Stella leant up against the counter wishing the day would end already so she could go home and soak in the bath till her skin went all wrinkled and the water cold. Laughter brought her back to her surroundings.

"Hey Stell," Flack pulled himself out of his conversation with Hawkes to greet her with a smile. Hawkes trying to catch his breath as it appeared.

"Hi— Sheldon, are you okay?"

Flack coughed then laughed shortly. Hawkes nodded his reply, while Flack then pointed his thumb over his shoulder, "We stepped out of the elevator to witness quite the 'incident' between Messer and _Montana_." Flack bit his lip to suppress his amusement as he made quote marks on the word _incident_ - stetting Hawkes off again.

"I saw the beginning of the _incident_, I think my ears are still recovering," Stella smiled.

Flack and Hawkes looked at each other as they chorused, "_Messer's_ in trouble."

"You too are beyond childish, don't you both have jobs to do?" Stella narrowed her eyes on the two, (whose giggling sounded very girly to Stella.)

"Going," Flack replied, racing over to grab Stella's coffee cup off the counter then fast pacing out the door with a smirk.

"Hey!" But her protest faded half way though, when she just collapsed onto the couch instead.

"You do make better coffee," Hawkes commented sending her a genuine smile before leaving himself.

Again alone, Stella dragged herself off the couch and went off to DNA, picked up a file for her ongoing cold case that had been reopened in connection to a recent murder. People filling the halls now, Stella maneuvered through them all and into the elevator. Too many floors down she was on the Lab's basement level. Which mainly was for the morgue, and the Lab's filing and evidence storage for anything past a two year case. Down a couple of halls she headed toward the filing room, opening the door with the key she signed her name on the sign-in sheet hanging on the wall before heading down the rows of filing cabinets. Just as she placed the file away she stopped and listed when she heard giggling.

"They are both dead," Stella muttered when she recognized the hushed voices.

"You two better get out of there, clothed and reasonably presentable in the next five seconds or I'll send Mac down here."

The door clicked open and a extremely sheepish Danny followed by Lindsay hiding behind him with her cheeks flushed red with either embarrassment – or something else. Stella would rather not think about it.

Lindsay stepped forward as both her and Danny held their hands behind their backs in a awaiting scolding gesture.

Stella raised her hands up and turned around, "I don't even want to know." Came over her shoulder before she closed the door behind her.

Lindsay let out a giggle when Danny just winked at her, then she pouted in mock annoyance and crossed her arms.

"If I get fired, it's your fault."

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Mac ran his hand through his hair for the hundredth time in fifteen minutes, giving up he packed away the evidence, sealed it back up, wrote his initials then handed it to Hawkes to take to Trace. Heading to the Locker Room he opened his locker, closed it and decided to take a shower as his phone started to ring, pressing reject he put it back in his pocket and headed to the showers.

Turning the faucet onto as hot as he could, he stepped under the spray of the water, relishing the heat, he didn't sleep much the night before, and all morning his mind had been unable to concentrate on anything, leaning his head on the cool tiles he stayed like that as he enjoyed the contrast.

Listening to the echo of her heels on the floor Stella walked to the Locker Room, she pushed the door open and headed on autopilot to her locker. Opening it before dropping onto the wooden bench in front. Peeling off her jacket she threw it into the locker then slammed the mental door closed with her foot. She had got pass the point of frustration, she was just feeling nothing - absolutely nothing. She'd rather be pissed off.

Picking up the post-it pad she spotted in the bottom of her locker. _Where the heck did all these post-it pads come from._ She grabbed a pen, biting off its cap with her teeth she blew it out into the locker (again slamming it shut with her foot.) Then scribbled down one word.

Spinning around on the bench she got on her feet and slapped it onto the locker door labeled: _TAYLOR_. Just as she let out a fed up breath of air she saw someone in the corner of her eye.

Turning her head round she half froze, half wanted to yell at him and half wanted to jump him right there and then, girlfriend or no girlfriend. Which didn't make sense in any possible way since it added up to three half's, it would screw up either way, and she was out of her mind that second with self-pity, annoyance and frustration. Not to mention the man that caused her pissed off mood now stood (as still as she) shirtless, — not that, _that_ one detail was enough for her to deal with in her state, but he had a towel wrapped around his waist, some stray droplets of water dripping from his hair and onto his still blatantly damp chest.

_I gotta' get out of here_.

And she did just that. Briefly closing her eyes so she could turn on her heels and out the Locker Room door she realized it could be sometime before that mental image went anywhere.

Mac, not sure what just happened willed himself to walk to his locker, as his hand stilled in opening it the post-it on the front got his attention - his full attention.

_Dinner?_

_**TBC**_


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